Evil Angel
by SignedSealedWritten
Summary: Maximum, a deadly assassin for the School. Fang, leader of the Flock, living on their own in Colorado after escape from the School. Her mission? Kill them. AU; Takes place where the first chapter of TAE would have started.
1. Chapter 1

**Evil Angel**

Author's Note:

This takes place before the first MR book, right where it would have started. There are quite a few differences. Max was never a part of the Flock, but they escaped together in the same way, just without max. Everything is the same – save for Max never being with them. You'll see! Enjoy!

Chapter One

Max's POV

I was born to kill.

Everything about me and within me was created for that single purpose – my hawk vision eyes, stream lined body for flight, the fighting skills that no fourteen year old should have had.

Oh, and the wings. Those helped too, a tremendous amount, actually. Aerial attacks are simply amazing and _are the bomb_.

I was created to be their assassin, their best assassin. To kill any and all experiments that got out of hand. And I _was_ the best. They'd accept no less than the best, from me or anybody else.

They are the School – the School that was and is my birthplace and home, the ones that I killed for. I had plenty of kills under my belt, too. Much more than your average fourteen year old assassin. It's like a good grade for some normal child- makes you proud and makes daddy happy, makes your seven year old twerp of a brother (AKA Ari) insanely jealous. Killing's a win-win, save for the guy who loses.

Missions – missions to kill – were the only time that I got out of the school and out into the fresh air, so I looked forward to them. At least I didn't have to stay in cages like the others. 'Cause of who my Dad was, I got to roam free. I'd seen other flying kids in cages, and it'd looked miserable. Fortunately for them, they'd pulled a disappearing act a few years back, right along the same time that Jeb – my father – had left on a prolonged business trip.

He'd only come back two years ago, and when he had, his first notion had been to make Ari into an Eraser- stinking wolf men who also worked as Assassins for the School.

Yeah, he definitely got the short end of the mutant stick.

Fortunately, Dad's never made us work as some kind of sibling duo assassin team, or else I'd have murdered someone I wasn't assigned to a long time ago.

Speaking of assignments and murders,

Location: airborne over Colorado

Time: 12:04 PM

Weather: Sunny. And I forgot my sunscreen. Great. Great, great, great.

Mission: Kill five subjects in a home based in the mountains of Colorado. Not armed, but highly skilled in fighting and martial arts.

And, that was my mission. I learn nothing else about them – no ages, names, or general hobbies/life aspirations. Just the important, could-get-you-killed stuff.

It's easier that way.

I can start to see the mountains in front of me now, green and sharp. I've never seen mountains before this. It's not like assassins have time to stop and smell the roses, exactly. It's kind of just get the job done and get out of there.

I wasn't worried about the fight being five against one – I've fought seven against one before. That was an interesting fight – all full grown adults, five men, one women and an Eraser gone rogue. It happens. Their particular case?The humans had taken in the Eraser that had betrayed the School. I'd been sent after them.

And that was the end of that particular story.

So, no – even with their special martial arts skills, I wasn't worried. It was only five this time. Besides, I was pretty sure that I could take down Jackie Chan, at this point. I've been killing since I was only six, after all.

I flew over the mountains, watched them speed below me. I'm not a particularly poetic person – imagine the poetry I would write – but heck, the mountains were pretty. All trees and green and dirt.

That's my poetry for you.

I needed some place to land and breathe for a moment before I went to do my job. I needed to collect myself. Trust me, you can't just go out there and kill someone without collecting yourself first.

Yeah, I know – wise cracks about killing. But if I didn't think of it as trivial, I would have gone insane some time ago. I don't think that I can count the number any longer.

Anyway.

I found a clearing in the trees ahead. It was close enough to the house that I could deduct the time that I had and plan strategies, and it wasn't too big, either – just big enough for me to land in. I swooped towards it, angling myself in the windows that nobody in the house could see me, either. There's a thick strawberry patch off to one side, the side that's closest to the house. Besides from the sky, it's the only entrance to the field – it's as if whoever lived here made a path.

I'd never tasted strawberries, you know. I've heard wonderful things about them. Perhaps I'd taste one today. It couldn't hurt.

Almost directly over the clearing now, I tucked in my wings slightly, letting myself fall through the air, dive bombing towards the space between the trees. I loved this feeling – wind through my hair and feathers, nothing but you and the sky and the ground rushing at your face at a speed that could kill you.

Yeah, I told you that I wasn't poetic.

I landed gracefully, my wings spanning above me. I let them cool for a moment before folding them in and letting them settle gently against my back. I ruffled the feathers, and tilted my face towards the sun. Ah, the outdoors. The antiseptic smell can get real lousy after awhile, in case anybody was wondering.

Sticking to my plan to eat a strawberry, I started towards the patch. I'd get my weaponry out of my pack and attach it after I'd had that snack.

Unfortunately for my face, I never got the chance.


	2. Chapter 2

**Evil Angel **

_Author's Note; _

_I'm so sorry for the delay – life has gotten in the way. This chapter is told in Fang's Point of View, and is a backtrack from when max is flying up to the point when she lands in the clearing – basically, this chapter is the same exact time frame as the last one, except its Fang. I hope that you enjoy. The title of this story is inspired by 'Evil Angel' by Breaking Benjamin, of which I claim no copyright to – or to Maximum Ride, for that matter. _

**Fang's POV**

We'd been on our own for two years – left with nothing but ourselves, a house, and the memories of the only father I'd ever really had.

How's that for an opening?

Name's Fang. Fourteen. Don't go to school, because they don't take nicely to children with wings. Yeah, I said wings.

Four years ago – and it seems so much longer than that – we were whisked away from our own personal form of HELL and taken here – we were treated like people and not lab rats. Then Jeb – the scientist turned good that had rescued us – had died.

Welcome, and meet the household.

Me – Fang. Again, I'm fourteen. Tall, dark, and obnoxious, apparently. Hey, just because I'm their leader, they think I'm 'obnoxious'. Well, who does your _laundry_, for hell's sake?

Then there's Iggy. A younger fourteen. Taller, paler, and to put it bluntly, blind. The 'scientists' are to blame for that one – night vision enhancement, they called it. How about – _you fail as scientists, _end of story? He's the closest thing that I've got to a best friend. He's also our cook. I've learned not to question things – that's my personal motto.

Nudge is eleven, and she's a chatterbox. She tries to be everyone's Mom sometimes, because she's the oldest girl, but I remind her that she's only eleven. And, most of the time, that's what she is – just a kid.

The Gasman is eight. He farts. A lot. And… ew. That's all I've got to say, man.  
Angel is six, and the Gasman's biological sister. She's sweet as can be – everyone's baby.

Oh, did I mention that she can read minds? Or that the Gasman can mimic voices? Or that Iggy can almost hear your heartbeat? Or that there are a various other assorted Freakish Things that my family can do?

No? Well, I just did.

No, I don't have a gift, unless you count good looks and sarcasm. I _own_ those skills, man.

But, yeah. We live, we fly, we survive, it's how we roll.

Angel piped up during breakfast, chipper and happy – which she always is, save for the times when she doesn't get something she wants. Then, you'd be well warned to watch out. Don't even think about not giving her something she wants – and I do mean that literally, because she'll just read your mind and find out that you're thinking about it.

There's one other thing that we know these talents are for – as well as for the years of training that Jeb gave us before he died – they're for battle. They're for if the Erasers or some other various form of hell find us again, we'll be ready for battle – able to protect ourselves.

But we try not to think about that, because we prefer video game battles to real battles, and kick-boxing to kick-ass.

"Let's pick strawberries. They're ripe now." She looked at me, her eyes big and wide and unnaturally _blue_.

BAMBI EYES.

"Mm?" I muttered. I'm a man of few words. "Why not."

Nudge whooped like the eleven year old she was, and Gazzy let one rip.

"Oh, dude, _gross_." Moaned Iggy. I couldn't help but laugh.

"I'm sorry!"

"…I don't have words for that, besides, ew, ew, ew, ew, ew!" Nudge shuddered and Iggy burst into laughter.

"You without words, Nudge. Aka, the apocalypse." Iggy said with a nod. Faking anger, Nudge socked his upper arm – and when I say she punches like an eleven year old, I mean that she punches like an eleven year old with years of combat training that could probably take out a heavy weight champion with her wings tied behind her back.

"Good shot." I commented without pausing my eating efforts.

"Yeah, hit the blind guy. Really, there should be some kind of law against that – _Thou Shalt Not Hit Blind Bird Kid._" Iggy joked.

Seriously, my family? Are they screwed up? Yes. Did I love them?

Abso-freaking-lutely.

---

It was a nice day out – shiny, bright. I'm sorry, but I don't do poetry. The sun does _not_ break softly over the crisp green mountains. If you've got a problem with me, say it now or forever hold your peace. And even if you do say it, I'll probably ignore you – I've got enough problems on my wings.

All I knew about this day? We probably should have been wearing sunscreen. Great. Perfect. Woops.

Angel was racing ahead of the group, rushing at the strawberry bushes.

"I'll help you make strawberry shortcakes, Ig." Nudge said, practically dancing as we walked – I hadn't seen her this happy since I don't know when.

We finally caught up with Angel, who already had strawberries on her face. Laughing, I handed her a basket, and she went deeper into the strawberry patch. We all followed, going towards the area where the best strawberry bushes are – we'd turned this into an art years ago.

The Gasman had a basket full almost immediately, but there were still plenty of branches and leaves included in his basket as well. Guess who was expected to weed those out?

You're looking at him. Supplier of everything, doer of everything, superman with wings.

Nudge was helping Iggy find the strawberries in the bush they were at. Angel had joined me, and was jumping up happily to grab strawberries, every once in awhile putting one in her mouth.

This was heaven – no Erasers, no cages, no scientists. Heck, no adults – a bird kids heaven.

Our baskets full, we exited the bushes the way we came.

And, really, things just went downhill from there.

Why, you ask?

Well, it's not everyday you step from a bush to see your worst nightmare staring you in the face.

There was a girl, standing there. We'd barely exited when I saw her.

_Oh yeah, worst nightmare material. _

She was… pretty. My age, if I had to guess. I couldn't decide whether her hair was blonde or brunette, and finally settled on brown with blonde highlights.

And, oh yeah, she had wings. It's a small detail around here, really. She looked surprised – as if we weren't who she'd been expected.

We tend to get that a lot.

And the part that made this an absolute nightmare? The part that made me wish I was back in bed?

I recognized her.

I mean, of course, she had to have come from the school – the aforementioned Hell that my family and I had grown up in– there weren't too many bird kid factories. But it was more than that – no, I knew who she was. It'd been four years since I'd seen her.

Did she know it was her own father who had rescued us all those years ago? Who had taken us out of our own personal hell? Who'd left her there?

Jeb's daughter. Ari's sister.

Maximum.

The School's assassin.

Angel screamed – from what she'd heard in my mind or max's, I wasn't too sure. But what I was sure of was that she was here to kill us.

And I was _not_ going to let that happen.

"Get her." I said, snapping open my wings, an angel of death, as Maximum lunged.

_Author's Note: _

_I hope that not too many people are confused. The Flock – Fang, Iggy, Nudge, Gazzy, and Angel – were born and raised in the school _exactly_ like they were in the books. Jeb saved them just like he did in the books. Except that Max was never with the Flock – she always knew that Jeb was her father. What she didn't know was that Jeb had saved the Flock – she thought that he'd gone away for awhile, as she mentioned in the previous chapter. Jeb sent her on this mission to kill the Flock. _

_Everything has a purpose, as Max's voice would say. You just have to find out why. _


	3. Chapter 3

**Maximum Ride: **

**Evil Angel **

_Author's Note: _

_This one is from Max's POV, taking place where the last chapter left off. Obviously. Well, I hope that you enjoy it! _

Kids.

This was who my Dad had sent me to face? Five kids who were just like me? Five kids who had wings? It occurred to me that they weren't just like me – they were those five who had escaped, even though I'd never seen any of them for more than a fleeting second, I knew. There was no other explanation. They were experiments, though, and I was an assassin- trained to take them down. That was the mission I had been given.

Then why did I hesitate?

On my worst day, I can handle five Erasers, without a problem; and Erasers are tough cookies. Try taking down one of them, but don't expect me to come crying at your funeral. Seriously, _chica¸_ don't waste your time- take it from me, they're tough. Simply put, five against one isn't a problem for me. That is, five hulking wolf men aren't an issue.

Five mutant bird kids with wings?

The magic eight ball says: _Please ask again later. Your answer seems foggy at the moment. _

Each of them were an equal match for me in strength alone: they _were_ the same as me they had to have been made in the school, because there aren't that many bird kid machines around. And, as they advanced, I could see someone had trained them, trained them well. Not as well as me, but they had some skills. I refused to allow myself to think Dad had known who I'd be facing- if he'd known, he'd have known there was no way that I could beat them. It just wasn't something in the realm of possibilities.

But that wasn't why I hesitated. I'd faced fights I wasn't able to win before – I always _tried_, even if I failed. Which, to be honest, was rare.

There were five of them- two males around my age, three younger- two female, one male. Five, just like the number of experiments that had escaped. I remembered small snippets about them, my head going through the details quick as lightning: made at the same time as me, the same batch of experiments as me. I'd only been told small details, and only when I begged and pleaded with my father when I was younger. They were like me. I had wanted to know. As I'd grown older, I'd grown distanced- they were experiments. Just because they had wings didn't make that different.

I probably could have taken out the two youngest without a problem, but it was the light issue of the older three to deal with. One of the oldest had dark hair, and, before I could even blink, he was the one who tackled me to the ground.

"Her hands!" The _thing_ on me grunted as I struggled and kicked. He'd pinned my wings- freeing myself from this position was impossible now. _Protect your wings_. That's what I'd always been taught. "Her. Hands. Tie. Her. Hands."

"I'm not seeing where you're pointing." Another voice, most likely belonging to the second oldest male, said. "With _what_?"

"Uh- Gazzy's belt." There was a sound, then the fabric feel of a belt around my wrists, behind my back. The way he'd tied them effectively pinned my wings with my shoulders.

"Now," The dark one's voice said, and he moved from pinning me down, knowing I was incapable of going anywhere. "Why are you here?"

Spitting out dirt, I rolled onto my back and squinted up at him. Sun bounded off of his dark wings, turning them nearly purple. The others stood slightly behind him and to his sides, dirty faces angered but victorious. I lifted my upper lip and snarled; I knew there was defiance in my eyes.

"An answer would be nice." He spat, glowering down at me as he towered over me, his chin raised.

"So would a mocha latte, but nobody ever gets what they want in this world, _buddy_." I said, inwardly gloating at my own response.

"Come on, you remember her!" The young blond male said. "She's Max. She's an assassin." They were those kids then, there was no more doubt in my mind.

The youngest, the blond female, calmly said "He remembers, Gazzy. She came to kill us."

I sneered, but I had to hand it to her – the kid was _creepy_. "What're you, a mind reader?"

Without smiling, or even blinking, she answered me. "Yes." I barely had time to process the new piece of information – I hadn't known there was a mind-reader among the five that had escaped, but then again, I hadn't known much about them at all. Before I could even blink, the dark, obnoxious one – Fang- was speaking again.

"Alright, Maximum." I pretended not to be surprised at how nonchalantly he said the words. I'd just attacked him and he was acting as if it were no big deal. I sensed something in him, though – something fierce, something protective. This kid wouldn't go down without a fight. Not that I'd given him much of a fight. "Your way then."

"You're letting me go so I can kick your scrawny asses to next Tuesday?" I asked, tilting my head to one side. Blood trickled out of a gash on my cheek that I hadn't previously noticed.

Fang didn't react. "You're coming with us. Our new houseguest. We'll get out answers." In one sudden movement, he'd hoisted me to a standing position, hand clamped on my shoulder. Trying not to seem unsteady, I sneered as the wind gathered my hair and tossed it behind me. There was a wildness in my eyes; I was the wild and untamed girl. He shoved me forward. "March."

And that was when remembered.

Remembered him – only him, though I'd seen the rest of them sometime in my life. I remembered briefly their faces, though they'd be younger. They'd been trivial until they escaped, intriguing because they were like me, but not. They were caged, I was the … not free, never free. Freer then them.

I'd never been truly allowed in their lab room – any time I had seen them I'd either snuck in, and that was probably where they knew me from. I'd caught glimpses of all the experiments as they were moved from room to room, sometimes heard stories about things that had gone wrong, eavesdropped on conversations. None were important, most died, and I'd forget them.

But not him. Never him.

Not Defiance, as I'd called him, because every step he took as he'd walked to the lab, led by white coats, was full of it, full of defiance.

He'd been the only one I'd ever named – don't get attached because they'll die someday, and ignore the pressing fact that you're just like them and are going to expire too – and I'd named him because I loved him. Not loved him, but loved what he symbolized. Defiance. He'd been the only one, and I was the young assassin who couldn't help but wonder why. Wonder why he looked like that, wonder why he _defied_. Why he wasn't like the others. And then he'd simply vanished, gone away like so many of them do. Died, I thought, but now I knew better- he was among the living, among the escaped.

And now I was among the captive, a hostage.

"Hey man," One, the pale one, said. We'd begun to walk, me, dazed, towards the house. I was unable to escape, nearly losing balance just walking. "We're really going to keep her in our house? An assassin?"

"No other choice." De… Fang said.

"I don't like it." The oldest girl, who looked about eleven and had skin the color of coffee, said. "She'll kill us, as soon as we turn our backs."

"She won't." The youngest one said, smiling at me. "She wants answers too."

"You don't know that!" The older girl said, frantically waving her arms. "She's a _killer_. Maybe … maybe she killed Jeb, too!" There was fire in her eyes, pure hatred.

I stopped, dead, in my tracks. "You little fool, you liar." I spat. My Dad was far from dead, and I'd never, ever, done such a thing. "You shut up, you shut up right-"

"You did, didn't you?!"

"Enough. She didn't." Defi… Fang said, and he was looking at me with the most peculiar expression. Realization hit me like a bucket of cold water.

It was all in the time frame. Four years ago, these four had vanished – the same day my father had gone on a business trip.

"Because he's not dead." I shook my head, confirming the simple truth. We were caught in a moment of sudden, complete understanding, and I hated it. Hated to be on any level with the enemy. Because that's what he was, if he was taking me hostage, if I'd been sent on a mission to kill him. That's what he had to be. "Because he sent you on this mission."

Another nod from me.

"I don't get it!" The youngest boy said. "Jeb died two years ago." His voice wavered. Two years ago, when he'd reappeared to the School. "He rescued us and then _died_. So why would he send her to kill us?"

Yes, Father? Why. Why send me to kill the ones you'd _rescued_. Suffocating betrayal slammed into me. He'd used me. He'd used them.

But why?

"Because," said Fang. "We've been betrayed."


End file.
